Last Night
by Written666
Summary: It's the night before someone's wedding, but what is the bride doing with another man? HermionexDraco, M rating for language and sexual situations. A little corny, consider yourselves warned.


A/N: Hey all. DON'T READ IF YOU WANT THIS SPOILED. This is a little ficlet between Draco and Hermione (obviously she's marrying Ron, and yeah, I kinda despise Ron), on the night before Hermione's wedding. Could be before the nineteen years bit, if you like, but there's no mention of magic and such, so it could be considered A.U...it's a mix. Enjoy! Reviews are much appreciated :)

The bar was warm, the beer was at room temperature. This annoyed him slightly, so he had opted for a glass of brandy with three ice cubes dunked unceremoniously at the bottom of the glass. The hot air about him was caused by the many gleeful and active parishioners who were constantly demanding more rounds and singing popular and annoying out-of -tune songs at the top of their lungs. His only respite from this was the hint of icy air that graced the back of his ankles whenever the door opened. Thankfully the glass of amber liquid that rested, seemingly constantly filled in his left hand, was mind numbingly cold. That's just what he wanted though. Mind numbing.

The woman he loved was getting married tomorrow. Tomorrow was the date of his parents' wedding, he thought to himself, bitterly amused as he lifted the glass to his lips. The woman he loved and that he knew loved him back was giving herself over to another man. He could hardly stand watching the two together. Her husband speaking freely about sport and the latest in current affairs and she resisting the urge to make her own comment, for fear of being beaten down by her husband's boisterous opinions. He thought that maybe he exaggerated the extent of her misery most nights like this, especially since he knew that she did somewhat love the man she was about to marry. He called the bar tender over, a renewed bitterness in the pit of his stomach that could only be washed away by the even more bitter taste of brandy. He almost choked from the shock of icy air that hit the back of his ankles and he turned to yell drunkenly at whoever had dared to interrupt his misery. The words died on his lips though, when he saw who it was.

He watched her walk over to him. She certainly didn't turn many heads, for she was fully clothed and was practically wearing an expression that screamed "Fuck Off". He didn't expect her to be out at this time of the night, let alone on this side of town. He'd specifically chosen this bar so that no one he knew would find him. It wasn't in so much as a kilometer of either of their frequented places. He leant back against the bar, and gave her a lopsided smirk. She didn't return it and he expected as much. She merely walked over to him and grabbed his arm, yanking him to his feet and muttering;

"We're leaving," Before pulling him towards the door with a strength he didn't know she had.

"No," He yanked his arm out of her grasp, "'M not finished..."

"_Yes_, you are," She grabbed his arm, stumbling herself and bodily pushed him through the bar doors, "Put it on his tab!" She yelled over her shoulder.

"He doesn't have one!" A very agitated bar tender called back. She rolled her eyes at his poor planning and ignored the bar tender, hoping her sophisticated air and clothing would speak for themselves. Luckily, they did.

"Le' me back in!" He slurred and made for the door again, but she pulled him back, not even wasting her breath on words anymore. The night was cold and he was under dressed. She considered going back in for his jacket but figured he had about fifty of the exact same make anyway, and doubted in his current state that he would even deign it necessary to adorn himself with it. She threw her scarf back around her neck and crossed the road, dragging him by his elbow. His protests were loud, but he kept walking with her anyway. As soon as they were across the road, she threw him up against the wall, his shirt bunched in her hands, her face inches from his.

"You idiot! Why?"

"Why the fuck not?" He retorted, then threw his head back and laughed. Unfortunately he forgot there was a wall behind him and so almost knocked himself out.

"Ouch..." He brought a hand up to rub the back of his head, but she slapped it away impatiently and repeated the question;

"Why?"

"Why are you marrying him?"

"You know why,"

"Don't let me think that it's love. I know it isn't,"

"You're wrong. I love him more than I ever loved you," He smiled at the conviction she said it with, smiled at the fire burning in her eyes as she said it.

"You almost sound as if you believe it," He replied. There was silence for a moment before she spoke again, more resigned this time;

"Why are you here?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

He looked down, as if thinking. He grasped her hands and pulled her to his chest. She gasped and tried to pull back, her eyes flickering left and right, afraid that her soon-to-be husband might see, that someone she knew might see them here, together, in this compromising position. Then he opened his mouth and the raw stench of alcohol poured out making her gag. His words though, had a different affect on her.

"I don't want anyone to touch you. I hate it when I see you with that asshole. He's not good enough for you and I'm not saying I am and I know that have done some pretty fucked up shit, but I don't want you to be with anyone, to be touched by anyone but me. I love you. I love you so much that after tomorrow I don't think I'm ever going to be happy again,"

She blinked up at him and he looked down at her, taking in her form. Her eyes a deep green, her hair falling around her shoulders, her lips slightly parted...He didn't know what possessed him to kiss her, but suddenly he was, and she was struggling to get away from his lips, fighting his tongue off with hers, throwing her weight backwards...And suddenly she melted, like butter, under his lips and she fell into his chest and he thought he heard her sigh as she went. He let go of her hands and pulled her in, his hands tangling themselves in her hair, her arms trapped between their bodies. He drew back, feeling her saliva coat his lips and his breath came out in little puffs of mist. Her lips were swollen from his assault and her eyes were moist. She hadn't moved from his chest.

"What are you doing?" He breathed on her, knowing the answer but still wanting to hear her say it. He closed his eyes, wanting to provide his ears with the means to fully enjoy what he was about to hear.

"Making the biggest and best mistake of my life," Her voice cracked and she yanked him back towards her, her teeth crashing against his, her lips almost bruising in their ferocity.

They found their way to a motel easily enough. He just flashed his I.D and the attendant ushered them up to a room, not that either party took notice of this. They were too busy wrapped in each others embrace. As soon as the door closed, he slammed her up against the wall, his hands fumbling with her buttons, then getting irritated with the time consuming task of undoing them and ripped her shirt off of her in one swift motion. Neither heard the buttons clatter to the ground, nor the quiet thud of each others various garments as they fell to the floor, unceremoniously. They pushed each other around the apartment, bruising themselves against furniture, bending the other over the bed, around the wall, breaking lamps and smashing vases. They clung to each other for dear life, as if their very lives depended on each other. They fell onto the bed naked, limbs tangled.

He looked down at her, and she back up at him. He looked deep into her eyes and tried not to see anything that would sway his want for her. He failed though, and asked her miserably, his words like lead in his mouth;

"Would you rather I be him, Hermione?" His eyes darted to the side, not willing to meet her eyes if she affirmed that she would, "Would you rather be under him right now...?" He trailed off and suddenly felt a hand against his cheek, gently turning him back towards her face. Her eyes were glazed with emotion and she lifted her head so that she could place a chaste kiss on his lips.

"There is no place I would rather be right now, Draco" She told him, as tears welled at the corners of her eyes and her voice cracked, "Than here, under your gaze,"

Those were the words he longed to hear and that night, he was sure she was his, if only for that night.

The next morning wasn't a surprise to either party. A few muttered 'thanks' and a cup of coffee later, Hermione was ready to leave, as was he. He spoke indifferently about the weather and couldn't look at her, let alone bring himself to meet her eyes. She on the other hand stared at him as if he were some kind of creature. Draco acknowledged this, and chose to ignore it, thinking that she was probably regretting giving in to her urges. As they walked out of the motel and after he had chosen to shake her hand and tell her that he looked forward to seeing her at the wedding, he was proven wrong.

"Thank you," He said with an enormously fake grin, "I enjoyed that, I hope the feeling was mutual. I won't tell anyone of this encounter and I hope you will do the same,"

If looks could kill, he swore that he would be dead as soon as she turned her gaze on him. He made the mistake of meeting it, then.

"Don't treat me like a business deal that you've just closed," She told him stepping closer.

"How would you like me to treat you?" He asked her, his heart quickening, his eyebrows dipping into a frown.

"_Like you did last night," _She stopped the words just before they left her lips, "Like a friend," She finished, without conviction.

"Then, I'll see you at the wedding," He stumbled over his sentence and like her, without conviction,"Friend," He added.

"Thank you," She said, giving him one last look before turning and walking in the opposite direction. He watched her for a few moments, making sure that her image was imprinted in his mind forever. Then, with enormous effort, he turned and began to walk away. He took about three steps before he was engulfed in a hug from behind. His arms automatically came up and clasped her arms, his head bowed.

"I want you to know," Her voice was muffled and he felt her lips moving against his back, "That I will _always_, be yours,"

His heart didn't skip or jump in his chest, because he already knew this. He'd been put on this earth for her and she for him. What he did feel was a blossoming of pain in his chest, knowing that he would never be able to have her.

"I know," His voice was low and pained, as he grasped her arms, then released them as they began to slip away, "I know,"

He heard her heels clapping against the ground and he knew she was running. He didn't turn back, for fear he would be unable to stop himself from going after her and begging her to call the wedding off, to run away with him to Paris, Beijing, India, New York, to cast off her social expectations and marry him in her husband's stead. Instead, he squared his shoulders hailed a cab and went to pick up his suit.

_Fin_

A/N: Oh, the angst! I'm sorry, I can't help it. Love it, hate it, think it's what should have happened? Review please!


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